


F@*$ Spock

by L122YTorch (orphan_account)



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 22:45:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1916799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/L122YTorch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rather than question the Vulcan whose lap he's now seated on, Jim gives into the events that he can hardly believe are unfolding. After all, why stop a good thing?</p>
            </blockquote>





	F@*$ Spock

They were docked in San Francisco, waiting on repairs.

Jim’s boots echoed as they walked down the lifeless hallway. The ship was an entirely different animal when it was nearly empty. Without the buzz and bustle of crew members, the Enterprise felt hollow.

The fact that half the lights were off to conserve power only made it weirder.

But still, Jim’s feet propelled him forward, onward, to the bridge. 

They docked that morning. He’d take leave tomorrow, enjoy the city with the rest of StarFleet, but he hadn’t yet journeyed off the ship. And for whatever reason, he felt compelled to stand on the bridge, alone for once.

It was so quiet that he could hear every breath that left his lips. His thoughts felt uncomfortably loud, and it was so dark on the bridge that at first he didn’t notice.

He took a sharp breath the moment he realized he wasn’t alone.

Black hair peered out from the top of the captain’s chair, a black boot rested to the side and a familiar pale hand lay on the arm rest. 

"Spock?" Jim said, strolling over to his seat.

"Captain," the Vulcan replied. 

Kirk’s eyebrows knitted together as he took in the familiar yet gravelly voice of his first officer. He came around the side of the chair and stood in front of Spock. 

"What are you doing aboa…" he froze.

The look on Spock’s face was one he had never seen before. Even the way the first officer sat in the chair was…different. His body language was relaxed, his eyes were darker than the ship, and emotion washed over his features. 

"Spock, are you okay?" Jim asked, his voice cracking on the final few syllables. 

The Vulcan didn’t respond at first. He just let his eyes roam slowly up and down the captain.

Jim’s body reacted fiercely. His heart beat loudly between his ears, goosebumps emerged from his skin, his fingers tingled, and blood began rushing South.

Fuck.

All Spock had done was look at him. Look at him. And he was coming apart at the seams.

Finally Spock answered, “I’m fine Jim.”

The gritty nature of his own name being spoken only fueled the fire that now burned beneath Jim’s golden uniform.

"I…uh…" the commanding officer stammered, unsure of what to say, not able to recall why he had opened his mouth in the first place.

"You should sit," Spock interjected with all of the cool confidence that Kirk usually possessed, but had somehow lost. "This is your seat after all captain." 

Jim took a deep breath and pushed down the light headedness that wrapped it’s fingers around his pulsing neck.

"But…I mean, you’re sitting," Jim said, confused. 

"I know," Spock said. "I would like for you to sit with me," a strong hand reached out and brushed Jim’s hip.

Was this really happening?

God, Jim hoped that his face didn’t portray the dumbfounded shock that he felt. 

The fingers on his left hip bone were pushing, and fingers appeared on his right hipbone - pulling. He was being turned around.

And before his brain could even catch up to what was going on, Spock pulled him down in one swift motion. 

He was seated, his back flush with Spock’s chest. He felt his officer’s unbearably hot breath skating across his neck, which elicited even more goosebumps.

And Spock…was…hard.

As soon as that realization reached Jim’s brain, he let out an obscene moan - as if he’d been holding it in, cultivating it, since they day he met Spock.

His mouth was bone dry and he worried that his heart might not be getting enough blood at this point. His own erection strained painfully against his pants.

Jim rocked back into Spock’s erection and the Vulcan beneath him growled with approval.

There were so many questions. Why now? How does Spock feel about him? Does he want a relationship or a good fuck? Everything about this seemed so absurdly out of character for Spock, but he couldn’t process any of this. Not now. Not when his body was so readily obliging to what was going on. Clearly these events are something that both of them had considered before.

Spock’s lips wrapped around the soft skin of his neck and one hand ran up beneath his shirt while the other stroked him through his pants.

"Fuck Spock," Jim whined, sure that he could come just from the firm hand on the outside of his dress black slacks.

The lips pulled away and his neck felt cold at the loss.

"Is that what you want captain?" Spock drawled into his ear.

Jim nodded profusely.

After tugging on an erect nipple, Spock slid the gold shirt off and shucked it to the floor. Then his fingers were back on his legs, closing in on his crotch.

Spock’s hand was pulling down the zipper on his pants, slowly, and the noise of it reverberated through the bridge. Jim haphazardly kicked his boots off with his feet and in a flash the Vulcan was slipping his pants and underwear down his legs.

He craved more contact with Spock, but he frozen on Spock’s lap, his back still up against the commander’s chest.

Jim looked down, suddenly very aware of his own nudity, and he looked at his own erection. Two familiar veins pulsed beneath the angry pink head that was dripping. And the sight of Spock’s hands resting on his thighs was driving him mad.

Desperately he waited for his friend’s hands to move, to grip his cock. But they didn’t. Instead, the fingers on those hands rubbed lazy patterns into the light blonde hair that dusted his thighs. 

He groaned, and reached for his own erection, but Spock’s hands latched onto his wrists, stopping him. They held tightly.

"How long?" Spock asked, right at the shell of Jim’s ear, licking the words off of the cartilage as soon as they landed there.

"How long what?" Jim breathed, unable to get his synapses to fire.

"How long have you wanted this?" 

Jim searched through the dense fog of lust in his own mind, struggling to find an answer.

"I don’t know," he said breathlessly - honestly. "But I want it."

Spock’s head appeared next to his, resting on the muscle at the base of his neck, Spock’s eyes boring holes into his soul, and then dipping down the golden chest, following the trail of curly hair that led to Jim’s throbbing erection.

Just watching Spock watch him, made his balls tighten, his dick jump.

He moaned loudly, pressing his face into Spock’s cheek.

"Spock please," he pleaded. "I need you. Fuck Spock."

Wasn’t the Vulcan dying? His (still clothed) rock hard erection pressed up into Jim’s ass. Wasn’t this killing him as much is as it was Jim?

The captain ground himself into that erection and Spock angrily tightened his grip on Jim’s wrists. 

"How badly do you want me?" Spock asked. His tone was toying, but the words carried weight.

"Hey, you’re the touch telepath here, shouldn’t you already know?" Jim panted.

"I want to hear you say it," Spock hissed.

"More than anything. I want you more than fucking anything Spock," Jim said, his voice ragged with desperation. He squirmed in Spock’s lap, and in an instant, the grip on his wrists was gone.

Immediately he stood, turned, and reached for Spock’s pants. The Vulcan remained seated but lifted his hips and let Jim slide off the layers of fabric. As soon as they were gone, and his eyes had taken in the sight of the gorgeous green cock in front of him, Jim sat on Spock’s lap, this time, facing him.

He hastily removed the commander’s blue shirt and lunged hungrily for his plump lips. 

It was sensory overload, the way his dick sparked as Spock’s erection rubbed up against it, the way his skin buzzed wherever it met Spock’s, the feel of Spock’s gorgeous lips sliding against his own. 

The mouth he devoured was hot and spicy sweet. The tongue within it was skilled and the teeth that nipped at his lip made him groan. Until Spock bit down harder, drawing blood and a growl.

He couldn’t get enough of Spock fast enough.

He wanted more, he wanted everything. 

Spock’s hand wrapped around their cocks and stroked fervently. The friction was bliss and if it kept up, Jim would never last.

He dug his hands into Spock’s ink black hair and tilted the commander’s head back, kissing him like he’d never kissed another being in his entire life.

He couldn’t breathe and he didn’t care.

"Fuck Spock," he ground out when they finally broke apart. 

"Fuck Spock."

"Fuck."

"Fuc…"

"JIM!!!!"

"HEY!!!!!!"

What? What was that?

It wasn’t Spock’s voice? Where was Spock? Where was the bridge?

It hurt to breathe.

Everything went black. Like the lights on the bridge went off or something, but he wasn’t on the bridge…he was on the ship, somewhere, on the floor.

With heaving breaths, Jim flung his eyelids open and reached out for the new reality that had materialized in front of him.

Bones and Spock were standing over him.

"C’mon Jim," Bones said, sticking a hypo into his neck. Jim yelped and squinted, attempting to get his bearings.

Bones shook his shoulders until the haze cleared from his eyes and he was somewhat grounded in the moment.

As soon as he could form the words he said, “what happened?” 

The two men looked at him, then at one another, quite unsure of what to say.


End file.
